“Foolish girl!” The words rang out in the deserted hall. “Do you now know better than us just because you wear an asha’s hua? You are fifteen years old, still a child. We have been here far longer than you have been alive, little girl. We have survived worse years than you could dream of, and we will continue to flourish. Return to the Valerian, and rid your head of such idiocy. And you too, Polaire! I am surprised that you would allow this waif to convince you so easily! What idiot put such thoughts into your heads?”
“This ‘idiot’ did,” Councilor Ludvig said with unnatural calm, “and I wager I speak with more experience than the lot of you put together. The longer we delay this hunt, the more casualties we will incur, and it will not bode well for the rest of the kingdoms. Our enemies are crafty and find solace in subterfuge. They will not be intimidated by this show of strength, which will give us nothing but a foolish waste of the Deathseekers at our disposal. They believe the news will leave us in disarray. We must take advantage of their presumption to strike when they least expect it. The faster we take down the daeva, the faster we seize back the advantage.”
“We are aware of your reputation, Councilor Ludvig” was the cold reply. “However, you have no say in Ankyon affairs and even less within the Willows. Isteran politics is not our politics, and you must allow us to handle all Ankyon interests in our own way.”
“Sometimes I just want to throttle them,” Polaire fumed as we exited the building. Fox waited for us by the entrance. Judging by the look on his face, he had already gleaned the associations’ decision from my mind. “They care for nothing outside of Kion; all they want is to save their asha-ka and their reputations and not necessarily in that order.”
I was despondent. I had thought for sure that I could sway them to the urgency of our request.
“I presume they rejected your offer.”
Zoya was still garbed in black, still in mourning for her friend, Brijette. She was paler than usual and for once wore none of her acerbity for all to see.
“And what does that have to do with you?” Polaire asked, wary.
Zoya shrugged. “I’m not stupid. I can make a guess at what happened inside. I could have told you that they would refuse your request and spared you the energy and the time. I also know that you all are not the type to give up so easily. Whatever you’re planning, I want to be a part of it. It’s better than staying here, with little else to do but wait.”
“What do you think?” Fox asked Polaire.
“We do need all the help we can get,” she admitted reluctantly.
“That’s an understatement if I ever heard one.” The old man dug at his right ear with a finger. “I’ve had dealings with those crones before, and quite frankly, I’m not surprised. They’re not ones to admit when they’re wrong, even when they are.”
“What do we do now?” I asked him.
“You have two choices the way I see it. You can abide by their decision, retire to your asha-ka, wait for word of any other battles, and hope they find that daeva without incurring further casualties. Or you can sod off whatever they think and leave anyway.”
Polaire, Fox, and I looked at each other. We didn’t need to voice our thoughts aloud to know what we had decided.
“You’re not being honest with them,” Fox murmured as we returned to the Valerian. “You’re not doing this just out of the goodness of your heart.”
“I’m not doing this because I want to risk my life. I’m doing this for Likh, and I’m doing this for Lady Mykaela. If I—when I—defeat the azi, they’ll make much of me. And I can build my influence, enough to use the elders as leverage. I can force them to accept Likh into the Willows and to have some control over Dark asha affairs in the Willows. Soon I could be in a position where they can no longer refuse me.”
Fox only shook his head. “I don’t think they’ll change their minds even then, Tea.”
“I’ll make them change their minds if I have to.”
My brother looked quickly at me, and I softened my tone.
“Not that way, of course. But I’ll find some other means.”
He nodded. He said nothing more, but I wonder if he had sensed that if only for a few seconds, I had truly meant it.
? ? ?
“Please reconsider,” Prince Kance said as Khalad carefully extracted a memory from my heartsglass. “Surely there are other alternatives to choose from?”
“I’m sorry, Your Highness. But I’m the only one who can do this.”
“I thought I told you to call me Kance.” He smiled, but his heartsglass thrummed with worry.
—his eyes were still the same bright emeralds, and his face still maintained that solemn bearing even as he stood, smiling, to greet us—
Khalad kept a straight face as he gently drew out my memory. “It is a hard reality to accept, Kance, but she is the most logical choice, despite her youth. The possible sacrifice of one life outweighs the lives of your other soldiers—or of a city if the daeva continues its rampage.”
“I’m already worried about Kalen. I don’t like the idea of putting Lady Tea in any more danger. I have half a mind to report your intentions to my father or to the elders.”
I froze. “Will you?”
“As much as I want to, I won’t. I promised to tell no one, Lady Tea.” He reached over and squeezed my hand. “But it’s your turn to promise me something else. I want you to come back safe and unharmed. If it’s a choice between saving your life and letting the azi get away, I want you to choose the first. Swear on it, Lady Tea.”
“I promise, Prince Kance.” And if my heartsglass flickered pink for the briefest of instants, it was only Khalad who saw.
She was paler, more wan than before—the price of carrying four daeva on her shoulders, with three more to come. But her hands did not shake as she stoppered two more of the vials, and she showed no hesitation as she drank them down. She tossed the bottles onto the sand behind her and stepped out into the waters, toward the bones.
She summoned the indar first. The blue bezoar broke in her hands, and the skeleton above us moved. It gained shape quickly enough—a hawklike beast with a gnarled beak and a loud cry that ripped through the air, the sound shrill. It had paws instead of talons and a bear’s body made of neither fur nor feathers but of something in between. It shook itself dry and then took to the skies, exploring for several minutes before it remembered its mistress. It landed on the sand before her and bowed its head in acquiescence, as had the other daeva before it.
The akvan came next, and it was every bit as grotesque as I remembered, with its protrusion of elephant tusks and its massive trunk. It trumpeted at the sun, no longer gutted and eviscerated. Its tail thumped at the ground behind it, kicking up sand and soil.
Their black hearts glittered in the air. The girl took them both and pressed them against her own heartsglass.
And screamed. She toppled to the ground, writhing. I ran toward her, but just as suddenly, the spasms ended as they had begun, and she pushed herself up with one hand, breathing hard. Even the daeva showed their concern, turning toward her with high, piping sounds of worry.
She raised her arm when I took a step toward her, concerned. “I’m all right,” she insisted. “All I need is a little rest, a chance to…catch my breath.”